Cloudy With a Chance of Sunshine
A reprieve I had been longing for…
A happy dose of normal…
A break from the severity of the physical travail…
A promise of spring…
A hope that this cloud will one day lift…
And my heart rejoices in a couple of good days, even if they are followed by more difficult ones. It’s a promise that this winter won’t last forever.
Things are still “incomplete”, which means I’m on a heavy dose of meds for the next few weeks, and then a potential second surgery if things remain. This process has seemed a bit cruel at times, to be honest, but we continue to trust. We continue to wrestle the “whys” with the “who” – concentrating on who God is, over the unanswerable questions of our immediate situation that we have prayed desperately to be resolved.
It’s a tug of war of our hearts. What we feel vs. what we know to be truth.
People continue to focus on our emotional healing, and assume it is the reason we’ve been slow to return to normal. However, the pain, the discomfort, and its continuation effects have been too intense for my mind to wrap around much of anything else. While I know that we have processed it to a degree, it’s been nearly impossible to not be consumed by the physical and how it effects our family. Perhaps, it’s made the grief a little easier to bare by spreading it out, or maybe it will hit us even greater when this part of the trial concludes, but for now we have been focused on getting through the physical part of this hardship.
The ground is thawing. Peace is coming. Peaks of sunshine will mix with the clouds. There will be an end to this harsh season, and I’m so thankful for God allowing me to see a glimpse of the other side.
A few links that have ministered to my (and Brad’s) heart this past week:
Brad and I listened to this audio series from Mark and Sarah Vroegop over the weekend. There’s much truth, honestly, and hope in this series that I would highly encourage someone experiencing the grief of a miscarriage, stillbirth, or loss of a child (or if you know someone who is going through this struggle) to listen to…
- When A Heartbeat Goes Silent: Hard is Not Always Bad
- When A Heartbeat Goes Silent: It is Well
- When a Heartbeat Goes Silent: Trusting God’s Choice
- When a Heartbeat Goes Silent: It’s Okay to Be Silent
I related to the words of this article, “And Then There Was None: The Miscarriage I Never Expected” , so much…
“Moms are often emotional beings. We crave expression. But there is little time for us to do it. Moms must go on. There is so little time calculated into our days, weeks, months and years to grieve. It’s just not on the schedule…”
“We are encouraged not to tell people we are pregnant until 12 weeks, but then 80% of miscarriages happen before 12 weeks. So we face this incredibly life-altering experience in solitude. We wander around our “everyday” lives with a broken heart that no one else is aware of. Some may wonder why I am putting something so private and intimate on the blog. And to them I say this: I share because I find great comfort in the love and support of those around me. And I share because I know with certainty that others after me will walk this journey and I want them to know they are not alone. I want them to know a sisterhood of strong and brave women has walked the path before them.”
And so much more…go read it. It’s so good.
And this one, “Why You Should Never Stop Telling Your Story” , from my dear friend, Myra, is just so spot on with why I’m continuing to write even through the pain of this season, instead of just writing only the good. This too is part of our story.